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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500678">beau malheur</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/combustible/pseuds/combustible'>combustible</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i know what you're feeling ('cause i feel it as well) - osaaka week 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - The Last of Us (Video Games) Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, As happy as it can be I guess, Character Death, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi, Minor Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Izumi is back, They're all around their forties again</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:47:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/combustible/pseuds/combustible</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>The experience of grief is something universal. Death is the embodiment of egalitarianism. It takes and it takes, no matter if you’re rich, or poor, good, or bad, or anywhere in the middle.</p>
</blockquote>atsumu dies, osamu goes through the five stages of grief, and akaashi loves him through them all.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i know what you're feeling ('cause i feel it as well) - osaaka week 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Osaaka Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>beau malheur</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HELLO BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE,<br/>this is my last "on time" fic for osaaka week 2020, inspired by the quote of the day: </p><p>There was a thump.<br/>The sound of the moment we fell<br/>The sound that says<br/>We can never go back to<br/>the moment before<br/>― Rinko Kawauchi, The eyes, the ears</p><p>to me, this quote simply screamed "someone dies" and so i went for a little wink at yesterday's fic where akaashi says "Sometimes, the stronger people in this kind of situation are not the ones we think.".<br/>so i killed atsumu. i'm sorry love, i love you. forgive me.</p><p>klaudia, i am so sorry.</p><p>the title is from a french song by emmanuel moire, who, himself, lost his twin brother. </p><p>btw, there is a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0M3Ku1KypUgUk6ITUbg2ZM">playlist</a> for this fic since it was mainly inspired by the two video games that i loved the most this year: the last of us and GRIS. the last of us is the universe where the fic happens and GRIS is about the process of grieving. even if youre not a gamer, i highly recommend playing GRIS. it is a masterpiece and i have cried many times while playing it. </p><p>the titles i've used for the parts are one of the songs from the playlist + one of the stages of grief. </p><p>the fic is mostly canon compliant regarding what happened before the apocalypse. osamu was osamu and atsumu was atsumu. akaashi studied to become a doctor though, i guess.</p><p>grief is not linear, and i know we don't all go through these stages in the same linear way as i have written osamu's process, i myself cope in many other ways, but i didn't want to be TOO personal about this. whatever, i hope you will enjoy this fic anyway.</p><p>tw: grieving and all that this process implies, so if you're triggered by suicidal thoughts, maybe don't read this for now. maybe  also any trigger involving .. zombie apocalypse like mentions of blood?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em>Lay me down </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Again, my friend </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I know it’s been a while since I could look you in the eyes </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Cuz' I am foolish and I am sorry </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But sorry never made it feel alright</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The experience of grief is something universal. Death is the embodiment of egalitarianism. It takes and it takes, no matter if you’re rich, or poor, good, or bad, or anywhere in the middle. If you’re human, you’ll touch the freezing lips of death, one day or another. And those who have known you will have to experience loss. Mourning, grieving, it’s universal. Even more now that half of humanity has died, and most of the remaining people are <em> no longer human </em>, brain and body half-eaten by mushrooms. </p><p>Osamu is not alone in this. He is not. Actually, he’s probably the farthest from being the only one to feel this. He knows that. </p><p>But it’s stronger than him, bigger than him, to know he will have to walk this world alone, that he will have to face grief for the first time, <em> alone. </em></p><p>He can still feel the cold skin of Atsumu’s body against his neck as he had rocked him against his heart, silent in the way he screamed to the sky. </p><p>Their world was unfair like that, putting people through grief more than they were normally capable of. </p><p>He can still hear the sound of Atsumu’s body falling on the ground as Akaashi pulled the trigger. He can still remember the way his heart felt like it was getting cut in half, and he’s certain that if it hadn’t been torn to pieces already, it would have broken just there, when his eyes landed on Atsumu’s glazed ones. </p><p>He doesn’t remember Akaashi patting his shoulder silently before leaving, he doesn’t remember Bokuto’s sobs next to him, he only remembers the heavy weight of his brother’s body against his, ankle already <em> greenish </em> from the zombie bite. </p><p>The experience of grief is something universal. It’s egalitarian. Death takes, and takes, and takes. We’re all human in front of Her. Everyone loses someone at one point in their life. That’s how it works. Osamu knows that. He’s not the first one to feel his heart break in two, and he won’t be the last. </p><p>Grief isn’t something spectacular. It’s a part of life. </p><p>But there’s no solution to make the process go faster, to make healing easier. It’s slow, and it’s frustrating, but it can’t be rushed. It has to go that way. </p><p>For the first time in his life, Osamu really is <em> alone </em> in this world that has failed him. Ever since he came out of the womb, Atsumu had been there, already screaming his ears off. </p><p>“Come on, Miya, we need to go back to the camp,” Akaashi tells him when the sun rises, orange light illuminating the grass around them. </p><p><em> Miya </em>. </p><p>He can’t even argue, tell him to call him <em> Osamu </em> because Miya is a name he shares with someone else. Because he’s the only Miya left in this world and he doesn’t want to be reminded of that. He stands up in silence and takes the gun Akaashi hands him. </p><p>His mind can’t suppress the thought that the last time his friend held a gun, it was to put a bullet through his brother’s brain, eyes cold and fingers tensed.</p><p>He shivers, but follows Bokuto and Akaashi nonetheless, leaving Atsumu’s body to rot under the ground. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>.</p><p>
  <b>debris</b>
</p><p>
  <em> ( denial ) </em>
</p><p>.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They arrive back at the camp a few days later. </p><p>When Sakusa comes to greet them and sees a shadow without its light source, surprise paints his face before it starts turning into something Osamu would later call ‘<em> his ultimate disgusted face’ </em> . Of course, it’s not <em> disgust </em>that fills his heart when he realises that Atsumu is not coming back. It’s surprise, anger, sadness, frustration. Whatever. Osamu has experienced all of this during the last few days already. </p><p>And so, he simply grimaces and goes back to the house he lives in at the camp, throws himself on the bed, and sleeps.  </p><p>He stares at the ceiling for hours when he wakes up, and it somehow feels like his heart isn’t hurting anymore. Maybe if he doesn’t move, maybe if he just lays here, something will happen, <em> anything </em>.</p><p>“Are you going to leave your house at some point?” </p><p>It’s Izumi. Of course it’s Izumi. She hasn’t shown up yet, which is surprising considering they usually see each other at least five times a week. </p><p>“Leave me alone.”</p><p>But he knows her. Of course she won’t let him order her around, she won’t let him sink. So he’s not even surprised when she appears in the corner of his eyes before she comes to sit on the bed next to him, not listening to him anyway. </p><p>“What?” Osamu groans, eyes still on the ceiling.</p><p>She looks like a mess too. She’s good at hiding it, but they grew up together, so he’s used to reading her face. She smiles softly, and pats his shoulder. </p><p>“I’m going to open the windows, it stinks here,” she says as she proceeds to walk towards the windows, opening them in one swift motion, not waiting for Osamu to nod or even answer.</p><p>“Don’t you have grieving to do?” Osamu asks with a bored tone.</p><p>She sighs, her shoulders visibly dropping before she looks at him with obvious pain in her dark golden eyes. </p><p>“Don’t be an ass, ‘Samu, okay?”</p><p>He hums and closes his eyes anyway. She’s not his mom (except she almost is, after spending years taking care of them during their childhood). She can’t tell him what to do. He will be an ass if he wants to be.</p><p>“When you’re ready, they still need you in the kitchens.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“And if you want to talk about it, when you’re ready, you know where to find me.”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“Okay.” </p><p>He can see in her eyes, that she doesn’t believe him. It’s the way she looks at him with immense sadness on her face that reminds him that he should be <em> sad. </em> He should be crying, he should be breaking down, in the same way Sakusa probably is too.</p><p>But what if he isn’t? Since that night, he hasn’t really cried, he hasn’t really felt anything, really. </p><p>But the way she looks at him, like she’s seeing a ghost (and that’s probably what she is seeing when she’s looking at the identical twin of her deceased little brother, after all), reminds him that he should be feeling like this too. He should.</p><p>She sighs and leaves in silence, closing the door of his bedroom behind her. </p><p>He can’t help but be glad to have refused Atsumu’s suggestion to share a house together. Having to get rid of his stuff right now would have been a pain in the ass. </p><p>No one comes to see him after this. Not Sakusa, not Bokuto, not Akaashi, not Konoha who are the people he’s the closest to at the camp. They’re probably waiting for him to feel better. That’s what he would do if he were them. But the thing is, he just can’t feel <em> anything </em>. Only emptiness. It doesn’t hurt. It just feels like a never ending corridor, grey and not even that dark. </p><p>It’s what floating in space without a sun to illuminate your surroundings must feel like. Silent, peaceful, dry.</p><p>-</p><p>It takes Osamu exactly a week of staring at his ceiling, surviving on the drinks and the food his sister brings him on her way back from patrols, to finally come out of his house for the first time since Atsumu has left this earth.</p><p>“Hello, Miya,” Akaashi’s voice comes from his left before he actually sees the man.</p><p>It’s not surprising that he calls him <em> Miya </em>, he always had, calling Atsumu by his given name and Osamu by their shared last name. It has always been like this since they’ve started being part of the same patrolling team. It won't change now. Even though there's no reason to try to differenciate the twins anymore.</p><p>The man before him looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in days. He probably hasn’t, Osamu realises. </p><p>“Hello, Akaashi.”</p><p>“How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Not bad.”</p><p>“I’m glad.”</p><p>Osamu smiles gently. It’s fake, obviously, and he knows it doesn’t meet his eyes or his cheeks, but Akaashi looks taken aback, and smiles back nonetheless.</p><p>“Listen- I’m sor-”</p><p>“Don’t. You did what had to be done. I couldn’t have done it. Thank you.”</p><p>The other man looks at him with a neutral face. They’ve been paired up for patrolling for at least three years now, so Osamu has gotten used to his placid demeanor. He’s not really surprised by the lack of emotion in Akaashi’s tired eyes, but something still seems off. </p><p>“Where are you going?” </p><p>“Back to the kitchens.”</p><p>“Oh. Okay. Say hi to Konoha for me.”</p><p>Osamu nods and takes his leave with one last tired smile, leaving a thoughtful Akaashi behind him. He knows the path like the back of his hand, having worked in the kitchens for years now. Since they arrived back when the camp was being built, Osamu had been assigned to cooking duties any time he wasn’t too busy going on patrols with Akaashi to watch over Atsumu and Bokuto. Well, now he’s probably going to stay in the kitchens forever.</p><p>“Osamu!” a deep warm voice welcomes him when he pushes the door open.</p><p>“Good morning, Konoha.”</p><p>“I’m sorry about-”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>The silent grows heavy around them as the other people look at him with somber faces. Only Sugawara dares to smile shyly in his direction. Most of them don’t even gather the courage to meet his gaze, and he realises he must look bad. Insomnia apparently only suits people like Akaashi.</p><p>“I’m back to work,” he announces with a nod.</p><p>“Good.” Daichi appears behind him and puts both his hands on his shoulders, giving him a big warm smile. “I don’t know how much longer the others would have survived without you to lead us here.”</p><p>Osamu smiles. It’s a small, shy smile, but it’s a smile nonetheless. The kitchens are his kingdom, and even though Daichi is the actual supervisor of this part of the camp, being one of the founders of the place and all, it’s not him who leads the team here.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I got your back,” Osamu replies proudly. He’s back on tracks, ready to feed the whole camp once again. </p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>He nods politely and rolls up his sleeves before looking back at his team. He’s sure they have done a great job anyway. It’s not the first time he has left them on their own. In a world like theirs, strong men like Osamu cannot just stay in the kitchen. They’re always sent on missions, or on patrols. It works like that.</p><p>However, being the only one with actual culinary knowledge at the camp makes him more efficient to guide them. It also means better food for the inhabitants, and more efficient warriors to send on patrols. He makes good food with what they can find, and people love him for this.</p><p>But, oh how he misses having different types of rice, and his extended collection of spices. He sighs and starts walking towards the stoves.</p><p>“Let’s show everyone that I’m back,” he says, tone bored but eyes shining with a weak shadow of the fire that used to burn there.</p><p>Konoha laughs as he follows him. Hunters have brought fresh tuna this morning, and he’s certainly not going to let this go to waste. He takes a knife and starts working on the tender flesh, Konoha mechanically mirroring his gesture on his left side.</p><p>-</p><p>“Osamu?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Don’t you think there’s something weird with this soup?”</p><p>Osamu tilts his head, looking at Konoha with a worried look. He has years of experience. From back when he used to own his own onigiri shops, and from the years he has spent here, cooking for dozens of hungry soldiers. He knows how to season a sauce, how to cut a fish, how to cook vegetables. He does. He’s even considered the best at it. </p><p>The soup shouldn’t be <em> weird </em>, unless the water is poisoned.</p><p>He brings the wooden spoon to his lips. And grimaces. Maybe the herbs were spoiled, maybe the water was dirty, maybe-.</p><p>“I think there’s too much water.”</p><p>Osamu blinks once, twice. Wrong balance? </p><p>“Probably.”</p><p>Konoha shoots him a thoughtful look but only adds more salt to the soup and doesn’t make any comment. </p><p>It might just be a one time accident.</p><p>-</p><p>It turns out it is not a <em> one time </em>accident.</p><p>It becomes a two-time, three-time, four-time accident, before it starts becoming a routine.</p><p>Konoha doesn’t laugh at him like he expected him to. He simply adds more salt, more sugar, more oil, whatever it is that is missing. He does it in silence, not daring to look at him.</p><p>His food has become <em> bland </em> , he realises after they have to add chili to a sauce. He never forgets the chili. Never. Osamu is one of these men who loves their food only when it’s spicy. He would never make something <em> tasteless, </em> something <em> boring. </em> He’s not that type of man, if he’s something, he’d be that one guy who puts too much spice, too much life in his food. He’s <em> passionate </em>like that.</p><p>So, when Konoha adds the red powder, Osamu can’t refrain his hand from tightening around the glass he’s holding. It tightens so hard that eventually, it shatters between his fingers, dropping on the floor with drops of blood. </p><p>-</p><p>Akaashi immediately  rises up from his desk when Osamu enters the infirmary and walks towards him, his hand in the other.</p><p>“I just cut myself,” he simply explains, but Akaashi is already making him sit on one of the empty beds with his brows furrowed in concern.</p><p>“Yeah, I can see that.” </p><p>He takes the antiseptic from one of the cabinets and starts cleaning the cuts on his hand.</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“I-”</p><p>Osamu sighs, his eyes glued to the blood smearing his hand, and he just can’t help but think about the pool of red spreading under Atsumu’s head, soaking his blond hair, the grass under him, his infected ankle. He blinks, trying to control his own breathing and the beating of his heart. </p><p>“I don’t-”</p><p>“Miya, breathe,” Akaashi’s voice guides him through the veil that’s falling over his mind, over his eyes, “look at me, Osamu, not at your hand. Eyes on me.”</p><p>Osamu obeys mechanically, and their eyes lock for the first time since he entered the infirmary. And he knows he’s not the one trying to avoid eye-contact between them. He tries his best to focus on Akaashi’s nose, his forehead, anything but his hand. </p><p>He feels the bandage against his skin and Akaashi finally lets go.</p><p>“So, what happened?”</p><p>“I broke a glass.”</p><p>He broke a glass. He broke a glass because he was now incapable of <em> seasoning </em>. He sighs. </p><p>What’s the point anyway? Who cares if there’s too much salt or not enough? Atsumu never cared. No one will care. Why is he so proud of putting the right amount of salt in his soups anyway? What pride can be taken from this? It’s meaningless, useless-</p><p>“Okay.” Akaashi doesn’t ask more questions than necessary, and Osamu silently thanks him for it. “How are you handling it?”</p><p><em> It. </em> Yeah. <em> It. </em> That’s how most people talk about Atsumu’s <em> death </em>. They say ‘it’ as if not naming the thing would ease his pain. So Osamu looks at him, hard, and Akaashi apparently is still trying to avoid his eyes. </p><p>“I’m okay.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Why is everyone expecting him to <em> feel something? </em>To be sad, or to mope? He shakes his head and hops from the bed. </p><p>“Thank you,” he simply says and he bows his head slightly before leaving.</p><p>-</p><p>Now, Osamu is back to staring at the ceiling in his room. </p><p>Why is the world so grey? Why does he feel so empty? Why isn’t he hurting? He sighs, turns on his side, and he looks at the wall. There’s no point in cooking if it’s to make bland food. He should just let Konoha handle it at that point. </p><p>He doesn’t dwell on the heavy question that lingers at the back of his mind.</p><p>
  <em> If you can’t cook, what even is the purpose of your life? </em>
</p><p>The world is fucked. The apocalypse has already happened and there are more zombies than humans, more dead people than they can even imagine, and every time the sun rises, new tragedies are bound to happen. </p><p>Where’s the hope in that? </p><p>Slowly, his mind slides, slowly, smoothly, towards redder days. </p><p>That night, he falls on his knees in front of his bed and he cries for the first time in weeks.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>.</p><p>
  <b>karasu</b>
</p><p>
  <em> ( anger ) </em>
</p><p>.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He goes back to the kitchen the next day, and Konoha greets him with his usual lazy smile. They start cutting the meat into small cubes in silence. They often start working before the others arrive. It’s been like that for years. They enjoy the same type of easy silence, share the same shitty humour, the same love for gossip.</p><p>They don’t talk about <em> the glass </em> incident. So, there’s nothing unusual between them. </p><p>Until there is. </p><p>It goes like any other day, with Osamu in front of the stoves, his eyes on the pan where he’s currently cooking the meat they cut earlier. </p><p>And he can’t refrain his mind from wandering when he looks at the burning flesh, thinking about the red injury on Atsumu’s ankle, the way it had turned green and black. And red. So much red. On his leg and on his hair, on his head, on the grass. So much red. </p><p>“Osamu.”</p><p>Everything is <em> red, </em> flashing in front of his eyes.</p><p>It’s red, red, red, until it becomes <em> black </em>.</p><p>“OSAMU.”</p><p>He snaps out of it, but not quickly enough to prevent the meat from burning before his eyes. </p><p>“Osamu?”</p><p>But he keeps his eyes on the stove, where flames are red, and caressing the bottom of a pan now full of burnt meat, soon to become ashes. It’s almost fascinating how flesh turns into something like charcoal, before disappearing in tiny grey particules. </p><p>“Osamu, I think you should take a break,” Konoha’s voice finally makes him turn his head.</p><p>“I think so too,” he whispers, tired.</p><p>-</p><p>“Here, I brought you instant noodles, since you don’t cook for yourself,” Izumi says the day she comes to visit him and drops a bag full of instant noodle boxes on his kitchen table.</p><p>Funny story, the last patrol sent outside by Daichi had managed to find an instant noodles factory a few days ago. They might be old, but it tastes like <em> college </em>, like memories, and like the past.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>“Do I look like I want to talk about it?”</p><p>“Watch your mouth, young man,” she warns him.</p><p>Miya Izumi is a scary woman, even for her little brother. She looks at him from head to toe and he automatically looks at the floor. </p><p>“What happened back in the kitchens?”</p><p>Rumours travel fast, uh?</p><p>“I can’t cook for shit anymore.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“I think it’s for the best if I don’t work there anymore.”</p><p>Izumi nods silently and sits on his kitchen counter. She eyes the empty fruit basket on the table, doesn’t have to check the fridge to know it’s probably empty too. It’s such a weird sight, a sad sight.</p><p>“Konoha can keep the kitchens going without you for a bit longer.”</p><p>"I guess at least <em> he </em> wins something in this situation."</p><p>The shorter woman looks at him with her hard brown eyes, but she doesn't say anything. Her look speaks for her anyway. He knows the only reason why she’s not spitting at him for being an ass is only because of <em> what happened </em>. She's not one to keep her mouth shut if she has something to say. </p><p>Maybe she's the one who actually acts the most like Atsumu between the two of them, despite only being his older sister.</p><p>"You don't have to take pity on me."</p><p>"Don't be ridiculous. You're hurting. That's-"</p><p>"And why aren't you? Uh?"</p><p>"Osamu," she says and once again, it sounds like a warning, the last call before the bomb explodes. </p><p>He looks at her and he can see she’s getting ready for a fight. She looks so peaceful, so <em> composed </em> , and why is her life still the same? Why does it look like nothing has changed? Why is he the only one feeling like <em> shit </em>? </p><p>It feels like he’s walking in the middle of the desert, and everything is so dry, infinite. There’s no finish line in mourning, no end to the desert. And sandstorms are pushing him further and further away from the end of his journey, making it hard to breathe, to progress. </p><p>"Where were you?” He snaps, “you're our older sister and you weren’t"</p><p>"That's enough, Osamu. I know it’s painful, but that's not an excuse."</p><p>"You should have been there, you should have-"</p><p>"Do you think I don't tell myself that every day? That if I had been there, things would have gone differently? Because I do. So don't be an ass. I lost my brother in this mess too. Don't forget that."</p><p>Osamu sighs, looks at the bag full of instant noodles on his table. It’s the brand he used to steal from Atsumu’s own cupboards, back to when they were still teenagers.</p><p>"I'd like to be alone, please."</p><p>"Alright. Eat something, 'Samu, and drink water."</p><p>He hums and walks her to the door in silence. She wishes him goodnight and disappears in the darkness, with wind in her hair.</p><p>His fist curls into a ball and his nails start cutting his skin open, blood smearing his fingertips. </p><p>And what if he’s never ready to eat anything normal ever again, just because the thought of eating when Atsumu can’t anymore makes him want to throw up? Why would he <em> deserve </em> to eat something, let alone something good? What if the simple sight of Izumi’s eyes, that look so much like Atsumu’s own, makes him want to scream and cut her off from his life? What if he never finds his way back from the maze his mind is trapped in? </p><p>He closes the door behind Izumi and goes to bed.</p><p>-</p><p>Akaashi is not a psychiatrist. He is not. And even if he was, there is a difference between being a psychiatrist in a normal world, and being one after the apocalypse. In other words, even if he had been a psychiatrist, he's not sure he would have been able to do his job properly. </p><p>So, he's glad that he's a doctor.</p><p>He knocks on Osamu's door a few days after Konoha told him about <em> the kitchen incident </em> and a few hours after Izumi ended up in the infirmary for a small injury, telling him about Osamu's mood lately. And most importantly, about the lack of food in his body.</p><p>It's not that he feels responsible for Atsumu’s death (he does) but he feels like if <em> at least </em> he should bring him healthy food. It might make it up just a bit.</p><p>Osamu opens the door and raises his eyebrows when he meets Akaashi's blue eyes.</p><p>"What do you want?"</p><p>"I brought you something to eat."</p><p>"I don't want it."</p><p>They stare at each other for a long time, battling each other silently before Akaashi sighs.</p><p>"Alright."</p><p>Osamu looks at him for one more second before he closes the door in front of his face.</p><p>-</p><p>Akaashi comes back the next day.</p><p>And the next one.</p><p>After his fourth attempt, he knocks and leaves the box of food on the floor, sitting there, waiting for Osamu, and he leaves before the door opens.</p><p>The next day, the box is still there.</p><p>-</p><p>"Miya, open the door!" he yells on the sixth day.</p><p>Surprisingly enough, the door opens and Osamu appears behind it, his hair obviously dirty and his skin a bit too dark to be clean. He's got swollen eyes and it looks like he hasn't slept in days (he probably hasn't).</p><p>"I don't want your food."</p><p>Akaashi stares at him, and he sighs, letting himself in Osamu's home, pushing the other man away from his path, taking in the state of the living room.</p><p>Objectively, it's not that bad. But he knows the guy. His house is one of the most colourful ones in the camp, with spices and small plants and lights. It almost looks like a house from <em> back then </em>. But now, it's grey, and empty. Sad.</p><p>"What do you think you're doing?"</p><p>"You need to eat something, <em> Osamu </em>."</p><p>"I eat."</p><p>Akaashi sighs, stands in the kitchen, looking at the empty boxes of instant noodles.</p><p>"Listen, I know you haven't been eating well lately. Let alone enough. And it's my job to make sure you don't die."</p><p>"Oh because now you care about people surviving?” Osamu whispers, loudly enough for Akaashi to hear, though.</p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"It didn't look like you cared, when you let Atsumu die," <em> when you killed him. </em></p><p>Akaashi visibly becomes paler in a second, eyes dropping to the floor and he grits his teeth.</p><p>"What? You can't handle the truth?" Osamu taunts him.</p><p>"I know. I'm sorry."</p><p>"You're a doctor, Akaashi, you were supposed to help him."</p><p>Osamu doesn't know when he has started crying, but tears are definitely falling on his cheeks, falling on the floor. They’ve been coming out of his eyes on their own accord nowadays. </p><p>"Do you think I don't tell myself that?" Akaashi asks, tone cold and eyes burning as he looks back at him. And Osamu can’t help but think it’s not the first time someone has told him something similar in the last few days. "I'm a doctor. I was supposed to save lives. And now I'm here, in the middle of an apocalypse, and people are <em> dying </em> everywhere, and I can't do anything. Don't you dare think I don't tell myself <em> everyday </em> that if I were smarter, I would have figured out a cure by now? Uh? That I could have saved many <em> many </em> people?"</p><p>"Akaashi-"</p><p>"It's not just Atsumu. Of course I'm sad, and angry. He was my friend. But I won't blame myself for saving him from becoming one of <em> these things </em>." </p><p>He puts the box of food on Osamu's kitchen table with a pointed look and starts walking towards the door. </p><p>"And if you want to know, he's still the last thing I see before I fall asleep every night."</p><p>He doesn't give Osamu the opportunity to say anything.</p><p>-</p><p>It comes as a surprise when Akaashi leaves a box of rice in front of his door the next day despite everything.</p><p>He doesn't knock anymore, though, but the food is there, waiting for him.</p><p>It lasts for a few more weeks, until on day, Osamu is sitting in front of a plate of terrible tasteless tuna and rice. </p><p>He looks at the wall, and then at the ceiling, his chopsticks still in his hand.</p><p>"Can you see that, 'Tsumu? I'm fucking eating tuna that has too much salt on it and overcooked rice because of <em> you. </em>"</p><p>And he sighs. And sighs. And his eyes are wet now. <em> Great </em>.</p><p>It's unfair. </p><p>Atsumu has always been the better twin, the one everyone loved, with his solar smile and his stupid charisma. Why did it have to be <em> him </em>?</p><p>Osamu groans.</p><p>And he has never wanted to punch Atsumu more than right now. Why did he abandon him like that? Why did he have to come to this mission and play the hero? <em> Again </em> . Why? Why? <em> Why? </em></p><p>He doesn't know. He probably never will. <em> C'est la vie </em>. That's all. He screams one last time in his pillow, yells one last time at the ceiling. </p><p>He doesn't sleep at all that night. </p><p>But that's fine.</p><p>-</p><p>The next day, he opens his windows, cleans the chopsticks he usually leaves in the sink for days, and he goes to sit outside at around eleven fifty. He closes his eyes and his lungs welcome the cold air in. When Akaashi arrives, a bag in his hand, their eyes meet, and the doctor smiles softly at him.</p><p>“Will you eat with me today?” Osamu asks with a shy smile as he stands up from his bench.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>He doesn't deserve Akaashi's kindness. He really doesn't. But with his gentle smile, his soft eyes, and the way his hand comes to sit on his as if to say <em> It's okay, I forgive you </em> , he really wants to believe one day, maybe, he <em> will </em> deserve everything this man has done for him in the last few days (or even, years).</p><p>They eat their rice bowls in silence before Osamu finally gathers his courage to blurt out.</p><p>“I’m sorry for what I said. I- There’s no excuse for- My behaviour, but I’m deeply sorry.”</p><p>Akaashi nods, but he doesn’t stop eating. </p><p>“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it,” he says between two bites.</p><p>“I’m sorry anyway. I said those words and grief doesn’t mean I had the right to blame you.”</p><p>Akaashi finishes his rice bowl in two quick bites before he finally smiles with another little nod. Osamu sighs in relief. </p><p>“It’s fine, Osamu, I know how grief works. I’m a doctor. I’m used to people blaming me for not being able to do my job.”</p><p>“Well, I’m still sorry anyway.”</p><p>“I’m glad you realised it was wrong for you to say these things. I don’t blame you. Don’t beat yourself up for this, okay?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>And for the first time since what feels like forever, Osamu smiles. It’s shy, and it feels a bit wrong, but it’s not a bitter laugh or a sarcastic smirk. It’s a real, timid smile that stretches his lips and Akaashi looks at him with so much unhidden affection that he starts crying softly. </p><p>“I’m here for you, Osamu, you know that, right?”</p><p>Osamu nods and he sniffs, patting his eyes with his sleeve.</p><p>“Could you- Do you think it would be possible for you to still bring me food?”</p><p>“Of course. Konoha always saves up the best parts for you.”</p><p>“Can you tell him thank you for me?”</p><p>Akaashi nods and even though it’s still broken, very much so, Osamu feels his heart slightly building itself back together just with the sight of his smile. </p><p>Osamu isn’t Atsumu. The fucker probably ate all the bravery that was available back when they were still in their mother’s womb, leaving nothing to his brother. But he can already hear Atsumu making fun of him for not saying anything (<em> that’s pathetic ‘samu </em>.). </p><p>And so, he decides to jump. Because what’s the point of being a coward if Atsumu’s not here to make fun of him for it afterwards?</p><p>“Akaashi? When you bring the food- Would you like to stay? So we could eat together? If you have time of course.”</p><p>The man stands up to gather the now empty plates and bring them to the sink in silence, facing the wall as he nods slowly (Osamu doesn’t know, but he’s only doing this to hide his smile and the red that’s spreading on his face).</p><p>“Yeah. If I don’t have things to do, I’ll stay.”</p><p>-</p><p>Osamu quickly finds out that Akaashi is mostly free at night. He usually only comes to say hello when he brings him his lunch, but will gladly stay for dinner to have a little chat with his <em> friend. </em></p><p>They’re friends. They have been for a long time. Having to have each other’s back does that to you. So, they’re friends. That’s what people who trust each other with their lives are, right?</p><p>-</p><p>One night, they hang out for a bit longer as they’re sitting outside to watch the stars, and Akaashi’s head falls on his shoulder as the man falls asleep, exhaustion from his hectic days finally catching up on him. Osamu lets him sleep in his bed that night. </p><p>None of them really minds waking up next to each other on the next day.</p><p>-</p><p>And so, it happens again.</p><p> </p><p> .</p><p>
  <b>chiasm</b>
</p><p>
  <em> ( bargaining ) </em>
</p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>It takes a few more days, but he finally decides it’s time for him to become useful again. Daichi smiles at him when he comes to see him one evening at his home he shares with his husband. Kuroo isn’t there, probably away on patrol since he’s one of their best soldiers and often leading big missions outside of the camp.</p><p>“Osamu.”</p><p>“Daichi.”</p><p>“To what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>“I’d like to go back outside.”</p><p>Daichi pauses on his way and shows him to sit down on his couch, a thoughtful look in his eyes. </p><p>“Are you sure about this?”</p><p>“I have to start doing stuff again at some point, and I- I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the kitchen just yet.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>“You could go on patrol with Iwaizumi if you’d like to.”</p><p>Osamu hums, shrugs. He doesn’t really know Iwaizumi, but Atsumu used to be close to his boyfriend, Oikawa, so he can assume that the guy must be decent. After all, if he can stand being <em> in love </em> with Oikawa Tooru, he must be pretty mature to balance out the guy’s obnoxious nature. Not unlike Sakusa and Atsumu.</p><p>“Why not.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>-</p><p>Seeing infected doesn’t make him spiral at all. He even finds himself being glad that Atsumu didn’t have to end up like this, face half eaten by mushrooms. Iwaizumi turns out to be a strong man, reliable and calm, just as expected. </p><p>-</p><p>“How did it go?” Akaashi asks when he steps in his house that night.</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>They both know it can’t be <em> just fine, </em>that there are a lot of things to add but they silently agree on eating first.</p><p>“I can’t believe they put so much miso in the soup,” he groans later when he sits in front of his bowl and Akaashi laughs a bit at the face he makes.</p><p>He doesn’t say it, but he thinks it loudly enough for Osamu to hear the silent '<em>maybe you should go back there, then' </em>. </p><p>But it’s his call to make, and Akaashi knows he has to respect that.</p><p>-</p><p>“So? How did it go?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Osamu admits. “I just- I keep asking myself- What if we had let him turn? What if he was immune? What if- What if I had been there sooner? What if-”</p><p>Akaashi comes to sit next to him on the couch and he puts two mugs of hot tea in front of them, on the floor.</p><p>“What is done is done, Osamu.”</p><p>“I know- but- I should have- I should have done something. Anything.”</p><p>He hears a sigh next to his ear, and Akaashi isn’t looking at him when he puts his hand on top of his, before he intertwines their fingers together.</p><p>“I was there. There was nothing else to do, Osamu.”</p><p>“I know. I know.”</p><p>He knows it. He knows that the past cannot be changed, he knows this. He’s not a kid, he doesn’t believe in time travel anymore. And he’s not Oikawa, he doesn’t believe in supernatural stuff. </p><p>But it’s not like his brain would listen. </p><p>Their fingers stay laced together until Akaashi leaves him with a kiss on the cheek later that night.</p><p>-</p><p>“What if I never got into cooking, maybe if I had played volleyball, I would have run faster.”</p><p>“You can’t change the past, Osamu. It only hurts you to build stories based on <em> what ifs.</em>”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>He knows, but it’s another thing to believe in this truth strongly enough to accept it.</p><p>-</p><p>“What if-”</p><p>“Osamu,” Akaashi takes his face between his warm, gentle fingers, looks at him with all the tenderness he can gather and he whispers, “you can let go, it’s okay to let go.”</p><p>“What if I forget about him- What if I can’t remember the sound of his voice anymore one day? What if-”</p><p>“I promise you, you will never forget about him. He’s a part of you.”</p><p>He doesn’t dare to give him that <em> he’s in your heart forever </em> bullshit. </p><p>-</p><p>“What if it had been me? It <em> should </em>have been me.”</p><p>Akaashi bites his lower lip and sighs. He doesn’t have any answer to that. He knew it was coming, and yet, he still finds himself at a loss of words when the whisper escape Osamu’s mind.</p><p>And it’s sad, and tragic, but he just can’t find the right words to ease Osamu’s distress. </p><p>So, he does the first thing that comes to his mind, takes his face between his fingers, a contact they have both grown used to by now and they look at each other for a long minute, before Akaashi comes closer and kisses his forehead. </p><p>“Let go of all this guilt, Osamu. You are allowed to live<em>.</em>”</p><p>His lips linger there, on his sweaty forehead, but he doesn’t mind. Osamu doesn’t really believe him just yet. But he’s getting there. Akaashi will make sure of it.</p><p>-</p><p>“Konoha?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Can you teach me how to cook again?”</p><p>Konoha blinks in surprise. It’s the first time Osamu is back in the kitchen since the fire accident, and if Akaashi has talked to him about <em> how he has been doing </em> (badly), he hasn’t witnessed how bad he actually looks, with his bloodshot eyes and his tired face. </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p>
  <b>environments</b>
</p><p>
  <em> ( depression ) </em>
</p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>“When will it end, Akaashi?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I don’t know, Osamu. I’m sorry”</p><p>It feels like it will never end, that his heart will always be broken, shattered in his chest. He’ll need the rest of his life to learn how to fake a smile again. </p><p>It’s empty, like the ocean, cold, like the abyss, and he’s drowning, and drowning, and drowning. He almost misses the desert, the anger, the reds, now everything is dark, and cold, and heavy in his lungs. It’s unbearable. </p><p>There was an end to the desert, but he knows the end of the ocean is only the coldest, loneliest place on earth.</p><p>-</p><p>“Osamu?” Akaashi’s voice comes from downstairs one day, and he hears noise from the creaking staircase before the man knocks on his bedroom door. “Osamu?”</p><p>He can hear the panic in his voice, but he stays silent anyway.</p><p>It feels like there’s only heavy petroleum in his lungs as he looks at the wall, like he can’t breathe, like just speaking, just saying <em> yes, </em>would tire him for days and days, like he just can’t bring his body to move. It’s too heavy, too empty. It’s too much, and so he doesn’t answer.</p><p>Akaashi enters his room anyway, and Osamu knows he oversteps his boundaries only because he’s watched him sink, slowly but surely for weeks now. He’s seen the doctor look for the signs, he knows he's seen them, has seen him trying to discreetly steal cutting knives from his kitchen, the ropes from his living room. He knows what Akaashi is fearing when he opens the door. </p><p>He doesn’t answer when Akaashi crouches in front of him as he’s laying on his bed, he doesn’t even blink when the man runs his hand in his greasy hair. </p><p>He only stares at the wall, too busy fighting demons only he can see.</p><p>-</p><p>How can he even start to breathe freely again?</p><p>Even after a while, even with time, he knows it won’t go away, that this heavy feeling in his chest will never leave him alone. He knows that one day he’ll find himself in front of a dead end, just before he can reach peace, before the sky can open its arms for him to fall between the stars. He knows it’s a battle he can’t win.</p><p>And even if one day, the pain finally eases, if one day his chest stops hurting, everything will end up emerging in his heart once again, at the mention of his name, at the sight of his face in a faded picture, in the sight of burnt meat.</p><p>It’s pointless. Time won’t heal anything, talking won’t heal anything. And if spring comes after winter, who even cares when the wind feels so cold against your skin, that it makes you fall on your knees, helpless in the snow? </p><p>-</p><p>He doesn’t go back to the kitchens despite having Konoha to teach him how to season his food correctly again. If cooking is the way Osamu communicates, he definitely doesn’t know how to express himself anymore.</p><p>After spending months and months of not communicating correctly, after months of burning his food, seasoning it badly, trying to learn how to cook again, he’s finally reached the finish line, the one where he has simply given up on cooking completely.</p><p>-</p><p>It lasts for a whole season, and when finally, the snow starts to melt, when trees start to become green again, Osamu finally gets out of bed one day, and he goes to find Akaashi in his own home. He knocks on the door, and the man greets him with a surprised but sincere smile.</p><p>“My fridge is empty, can I borrow stuff from your kitchen?” Osamu whispers, slightly ashamed considering how he has treated his friend for the past months.</p><p>But Akaashi only smiles softly and puts his hand on his biceps, stroking it gently. His eyes close when he smiles and it’s the warmest sight Osamu has seen in months. </p><p>“You can even cook here if you want.” </p><p>Osamu nods.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p>
  <b>gris, pt 2</b>
</p><p>
  <em> ( acceptance ) </em>
</p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>“I finally managed to keep our basil alive.”</p><p>“What do you think of tomato salad for tonight?”</p><p>“Don’t you have to be in the kitchens?” Akaashi laughs against his neck and Osamu shakes his head.</p><p>“Nah, I’m free this weekend.”</p><p>Akaashi smiles against his shoulder when he wraps his arms around his waist from behind, putting a handful of basil leaves on the counter in front of them.</p><p>Osamu softly presses his nose against his boyfriend’s temple and inhales deeply before he escapes his hug to take five red tomatoes from the box sitting on their kitchen table. Kita has been doing wonderfully lately, with the new crops Hinata and Aran managed to bring back from their last mission.</p><p>He starts cutting the tomatoes methodically, Akaashi still standing next to him, his arms around his waist. It’s uncomfortable but he doesn’t mind.</p><p>“Do you need help with something?”</p><p>“Can you pass me the oil, please?”</p><p>Akaashi obeys diligently, watching his boyfriend slice the red fruits with unhidden affection in his eyes.</p><p>If one asked when they started dating, none of them would know how to answer. Maybe it started before Atsumu’s death. Atsumu would probably say that, because he’s always seen right through Osamu, totally capable of seeing his twin's feelings for Akaashi even before he could see them himself. Maybe it started that day when he had brought him food for the first time in a silent ‘<em>I</em><em> hope you are okay’. </em>Maybe it started when they started hanging out late at night, with Akaashi laying next to him on his bed. Or maybe it started when he had laid next to him that night after one entire week of not leaving his bed, holding him against his chest despite the smell and the sweat. Maybe it started when he kissed him for the first time, under the stars when Osamu had asked him again, if he could use his kitchen. </p><p>None of them knows when it started, but it doesn’t matter. They’ve loved each other through storms before, they’ll hold each other through this one too, as the first anniversary of Atsumu’s death hovers over their heads.</p><p>When Osamu’s done and he hands Akaashi his own plate of tomatoes with fresh basil leaves on top of it, they both automatically start walking towards the main door. They usually eat outside, now that the weather is warmer, watching the stars above their heads in silence.</p><p>They sit, immobile for a few minutes before Akaashi starts eating, a quiet moan escaping his lips and Osamu laughs at the sound, mostly to hide what it does to his body.</p><p>“It’s perfectly balanced.”</p><p>Normally, Osamu wouldn’t notice such a compliment, normally, he would just shrug and say something like <em> I know, it’s my job.  </em></p><p>But after all of this, after fighting so hard against everything, every damn spice, every cup of boiling water and every piece of fish, and for so <em> long </em> , Akaashi’s smile tastes a little like <em> victory </em>. </p><p>-</p><p>Later that night, Akaashi sends him to their bedroom to bring him his hoodie, because nights are still cold, and they might like sitting on the porch like one of those old couples from before the apocalypse, but he won’t let himself, the best <em> doctor </em> of this camp, get sick.</p><p>His eyes naturally come to land on his nightstand where a picture of Atsumu and him is staring at him. They’re smiling. It was taken back then, long before the apocalypse. They’re standing proud, in their <em> Inarizaki </em>jerseys, and he feels his heart breaking. He sighs. It’s not pleasant, it’s still painful, it still shatters his heart in a billion pieces when he thinks about it.</p><p>But he can finally say that he’s at least at peace with it. </p><p>Maybe one day, he’ll forget what Atsumu used to smell like, or how he used to smile, obnoxious and carefree. Maybe he’ll forget what he used to sound like, maybe his voice will fade completely from his mind, but he’ll never forget the words he used to tell him.</p><p>
  <em> I’m your older brother, of course I’m looking after you- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m glad I was born with you by my side- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I never feel scared when you’re next to me- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Grief isn’t forever, ‘Samu-  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nice kill- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When you see something cool, how can you not wanna do it?- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -and say I had the happier life. </em>
</p><p>For sure, Atsumu’s life had been happier, simply because he never had to walk a mile without Osamu beside him. But their contest is still on. And as long as Osamu will live, it won’t be over. So, yeah, maybe, just maybe, Osamu will fight to have a happy life anyway. Despite everything.</p><p>“I think you should hurry before the pie burns, love,” Akaashi shouts from the porch, and he hears him clear as day through the open window of their bedroom.</p><p>Yeah, right, the pie.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m coming.”</p><p>Osamu takes the black hoodie they left on the bed the previous night, tearing himself from his reverie and from the picture on his nightstand.</p><p>
  <em> There ain't no such thing as memories, ‘Samu. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All you need is right here- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So make it count, alright? </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://twitter.com/yootasuke">twitter</a>.</p><p>OKAY I BROKE MY HEART MANY TIMES WHILE WRITING THIS, this is one of the heaviest things ive ever written. i hope you enjoyed it.<br/>additional notes,<br/>-i am obsessed with tlou so i might publish fics in the same universe at some points, like prequels with sakuatsu, sequels with kurodai, WHO KNOWS.<br/>-i deeply hope i wont offend anyone with this depiction of grief. and if you are going through it yourself, i love you and my prayers are going to you. it gets better. i promise &lt;3<br/>-sakusa was completely destroyed after atsumu's death, just so you know.<br/>-konoha is back and for once hes not a lil shit<br/>-izumi will be the miya's older sister's name from now on in all my fics<br/>-i highly recommend the video from the ytb channel 'grilfriend reviews' on the last of us ii where she explains why this game is so phenomenal.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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